


Caught so Neatly, as a Bird in a Net

by EmoWithALightSaber



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Child Abuse, Frottage, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Blood, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 13:04:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8715040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmoWithALightSaber/pseuds/EmoWithALightSaber
Summary: After taking a severe beating Credence accidentally summons Graves.Inspired by a post by seasons-gredence





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written as Grindelwald!Graves just because of where it falls in the timeline but can be read as Real!Graves if that bothers you. Also please forgive me, I'm out of practice and haven't written a fic since 2011. Furthermore it's 2am and I can't spell for shit, sorry.
> 
> Based on [this post](https://seasons-gredence.tumblr.com/post/153891496253/seasons-gredence-this-is-graves-kneeling-over) by seasons-gredence:
> 
> come find me on [tumblr](http://emowithalightsaber.tumblr.com/)

Credence had stopped crying during the beatings long ago, regardless of where they landed or how hard they struck. Before raising a belt to any of the children, Ma’ liked to remind them, “Those who truly wish to atone take their beatings in silence.”

Of course the young ones still cried, some of them screamed, and many of them begged and pleaded with her to stop.

Credence didn’t though. He didn’t care about atonement; he didn’t ask for forgiveness. He refused to make a sound because he knew that if he cried, gasped, made a whisper of a noise, she would win. So he clenched his palms so tight his fingers went numb, bowed his head, and bit his lip bloody, but he didn’t make a sound.

Not until after she was gone.

The room Credence slept in offered little escape from reality, but it had a door and a window, and no matter how drafty it was, it offered at least a semblance of privacy.

He lay on his stomach, felt the blood trickle against his flesh and listened to the muffled sounds of the others moving about, preparing dinner, saying grace, and speaking softly over the table. He listened until the lights dimmed, after the children had scrubbed the dishes and washed for the night, and the last creaks had long since dissipated after mother shut her door.

Only then does he let the tears slide down his cheeks. He will allow himself this comfort. He takes a deep, shaky breath and his fingers ghost over the triangle pendant, cool and heavy on the bed sheets.

 _Graves_ , he thinks.

A whirring, whistling sound and a flash of light cracks into the room. He chokes on a gasp.

“Mister Graves,” he starts, voice rising, heartbeat thudding against his eardrums, “I didn’t –“

“Shh!” Graves hisses, finger to his lips, “Quiet now.” He already has his wand drawn, making slow crisscrosses and figure eights through the air, “we mustn’t wake your mother.”

Credence had forgotten. He goes silent, trembles at the thought of his mother coming in to find him in this state with a strange man in his room. He’s endured beatings close together before and he’s not keen on having his back lashed a second time tonight. There’s no noise from the rest of the house though, and he relaxes and lets himself sink into the mattress.

The spell Graves is casting glows faintly silver in the light, spider-webbing around the room, bathing his face in soft light. Not for the first time Credence considers how lovely he is, with a strong brow and chin, the silver-grey coming in at his temples, and the powerful, sleek lines of his body. It’s quite obvious to him now that such a lovely, dominant man could never be anything less than a witch; Credence can feel the strength and magic that exudes from him, feels it caress his skin and raise the hairs on the back of his neck.

“You’re hurt.” Graves’ voice is low, “It’s okay, I’ve cast a muffling charm.”

Credence swallows. The stinging in his back has not yet ceased, “please don’t heal it. She already thinks I’m a witch.” his voice quivers and a fresh tear tracks down his cheek into his hairline. “She’ll kill me… she’d kill me toni-”

“Alright my dear boy, don’t worry,” Graves unwinds his scarf and shrugs out of his coat before folding up his shirtsleeves, “I’m just going to take the pain away, alright? Calm down.”  
He’s crying for real now, shaking and clutching the pendant. He doesn’t understand how someone can offer him kindness like this.

Graves fishes a bottle out of his coat pocket and uncorks it, “drink this, it’s a Calming Draught, don’t worry.” It smells like talcum powder and damp earth and tastes sharp and bitter like raw cabbage.

By the time he feels the spasms in his chest have diminished, Graves has begun work on his back, murmuring breathy incantations that leave his back feeling cool and dry and no longer hot and sticky like it has been for the past several hours, “Better, yes?”

Credence nods. His body feels as though all the tension has been drained away. Graves makes to put away his wand, “Wait,” Credence says in a small voice, “Don’t leave, please. Please stay with me.” He’s no longer in pain, but the chill in the air feels biting and he doesn’t believe sleep will come any time soon.

Graves smiles, a knowing expression gracing his features, “My sweet, delicate boy, it’s alright,” he shuffles onto the mattress and pulls Credence into him so that his raw back is still exposed to the cool air, and his face is pressed into Graves’ neck, “I’m here.”

He smells amazing, like cinnamon and tobacco smoke, a powerful, manly smell that stirs something deep in Credence’s gut. He does not press the cradle of his hips into the lean cut of Graves’ thigh, but it’s a near thing.

A finger under his chin raises Credence’s face so that Graves can meet his gaze. So close he can make out the dark eyes, framed by equally dark brows, just visible in the soft light that has snuck in through the window.

His thumb finds Credence’s lips and it glides along the bloody seam that he had bitten while enduring the beating. Magic fizzles against his teeth as the skin knits itself back together under the pad of his Grave’s thumb, sending a euphoric shiver through Credence’s body.

Graves licks his lip, his eyes flutter for a moment, and he cranes his neck. It’s Credence’s first kiss. It’s damp and breathy and the loveliest thing he’s ever experienced, especially when a soft tongue sweeps the lingering taste of blood out of his mouth. This time Credence’s hips do cant just right against Graves’ thigh and he groans softly.

A hand finds the soft curve of his ass and presses his hips more firmly into Graves.

“That’s a good boy. Just perfect, aren’t you?” he feels the words against his cheek, the scratch of stubble against his delicate skin, and then those sinful lips are on his again. He can’t help but gasp, his hips rolling now of their own accord, Graves’ hand squeezing the delicate flesh at the back of his thigh through his trousers.

It’s only a few moments before Credence shutters and releases, his hand gripping a strong shoulder, his mouth gaping open and his eyes squeezing shut. This is magic, he thinks, feeling again the crackle and fizz against every point of contact between their two bodies.

Graves’ fingers find his open mouth again, press inside, seeking against his teeth and tongue, and then trail over his chin and throat, down to the pendant caught between their chests. Credence wishes it would brand right into his skin, right where Graves pressed his big, warm palm over his heart.

“Aren’t you lovely,” Credence hears Graves’ smooth voice say. He feels adrift, unmoored, the only thing keeping him present in his body are the strong fingers that have carded through the hair at the back of his skull, gently pressing his face back into that warm, lovely shoulder, “Just perfect. You’re so perfect. Just what I’ve been looking for.”

Credence is tired now, the potion and his recent release taking their toll.

“I’m going to take you away from here, Credence.” _Credence_ , his name sounds so delicate when Graves speaks it, “You’ll come with me and you won’t have to worry about any of this muggle nonsense ever again. You’ll be just for me, wont you?”

Sleep tugs him under fast, he relaxes fully against Graves’ body, “Just for me, my little darling.”

 

When Credence wakes he is alone. His trousers are soiled and the faint, tart smell of smoke hangs on his pillow


End file.
